Teacher-Student Relations
by PrincessShoshana
Summary: Sherlock is a new student and, though school is abnormally boring, quickly takes an interest in one professor Watson. M for later chapters. ;) (Someone help me learn how to make titles. And how to figure out which genres to put.)
1. Chapter 1

"I don't want to go," Sherlock muttered sourly as he walked into the building with Mycroft.

The older Holmes was having none of it and just kept his pace. "Well, then I'll guess you'll just be suffering for the next 9 months, won't you? Now you go off to class, you're already late because of your silly whining this morning. I'll be with the principal."

Unhappily, Sherlock did as he was told and searched for classroom 221. Second floor, he assumed, trudging up the steps and all too quickly finding the room. He waltzed in and all eyes glued to him, not that he cared. Much.

"Sherlock Holmes, I presume?" The teacher—30, divorced, judging by the ring line on his finger—smiled. "So nice of you to finally join us. I'm Dr. Watson, I'll be your professor—"

"Obviously, who else would you be, being old as you are and standing in front of my class. I do hope you won't be this obvious the entire year, I have been informed that there will be consequences for skipping classes."

"—for the entire year. Now why don't you just take a seat and shut it or I'll give you detention, alright?" Dr. Watson sighed and turned back to the class, but Sherlock could see he was as embarrassed as he was touchy. The teen shrugged and sat down in the nearest empty seat as the professor continued his lesson.

"Hello," the girl beside Sherlock whispered and he reluctantly looked up at her. "I'm Molly Hooper, it's a pleasure."

"Can't say the same," the boy responded, looking back down at his phone.

As if hearing the exchange, the older man at the front of the room cleared his throat. "Sherlock Holmes, I do hope you won't be causing trouble all year. Rule number one: no mobiles in class."

"You are such a bother," Sherlock muttered, not stopping his fingers from flying over the keys.

"Excuse me?"

"He said he's sorry," Molly answered for him.

The professor sighed loudly. "Alright, Molly, since you're the person he's least likely to punch, would you mind keeping him in check?"

"Of course," she agreed, sliding a hastily written note towards Sherlock, who rolled his eyes and shoved his phone in his pocket.

_Please be good? The class is only 1.5 hours. xx_

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the paper and leaned back in his chair, deciding it best to just go into his mind palace for the rest of the period.

"Sherlock, a word?" a voice called to the teen just before he slipped out the door. The brunette turned around and walked towards the teacher's desk.

"What is it now? Perhaps you'll call my brother and get me in trouble? You know, you can hardly blame me for not paying attention. Just because your marriage failed and your brother's an alcoholic doesn't mean you need to be so damn _boring_."

Dr. Watson started, then raised an eyebrow quizzically. "How did you know that?"

"Tan line on your ring finger, almost gone but not quite, so I'd say it's been a good few months, but not yet a year. Then the letter on your desk – from Harry, so that could be anyone, but it mentions 'parents' house', so obviously a sibling. The writing is shaky and the paper is stained with what must be vodka, judging by the vinegar smell old alcohol produces." Sherlock stopped talking and finally decided to look the teacher in the eye, expecting the worst. Nothing physical, like kids his age did, but threats were probably in order along with detention for the rest of the year.

"Brilliant," Dr. Watson breathed, looking at the student with a grin. "I was told you were a genius, no wonder you were more interested in your phone than me."

Sherlock's eyebrows pulled together. Brilliant? That was a new one. "Right. Well, obviously. May I go now?"

"Yeah, so long as you promise to at least pretend to be paying attention from now on. I know I'm just a teacher, but we have feelings as well, surprising as that is." His tone was serious, but his eyes and smile said he was playing, at least partly. "Now get, no need to keep all your teachers waiting, I may as well be the lucky one."

Sherlock nodded and left the room, now finding his thoughts doing what he wasn't able to in class – listen to the teacher. Or rather, think about him.

Brilliant, huh? His lips twitched into a small smile. _Well, I certainly like to think so._


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this took so long. I planned on updating it a while ago, but I wrote a really long chapter for another story and tired myself out. ^^' Then life got in the way. But it's here now, hope it was worth the wait! :)**

* * *

Dr. John Watson went through his day as he always did, happily shaping (he liked to hope) the minds of the next generation, savoring all the students who paid more than the minimum required amount of attention and not letting the rest get to him. He was a teacher; of course they wouldn't think he was interesting. Yet one thing was different and it kept running through his mind and he wasn't sure why.

Sherlock Holmes: an interesting name for an interesting boy.

How had he done that? Had he spent the whole class figuring his teacher out or had he known the second he walked in the room? John figured it was the latter, considering the mention of the vinegar smell on the letter. He must have had a pretty good nose to smell that even from where he'd been standing.

Once his morning classes had finished, John grabbed his lunch and his briefcase and headed out towards the teachers' lounge. On his way, he saw Sherlock and Molly talking (though it seemed that Molly was doing all of the talking while Sherlock just fiddled with his phone) and smiled politely at them. The brunette quickly excused himself from Molly and walked over to his teacher. "Hello, professor. I was wondering if we could maybe have a discussion."

"Of course, Sherlock," John replied with what he hoped was an assuring smile. He didn't want to give away his confusion as to why Sherlock would want to talk to him, considering how eager he had seemed to get away from him earlier. "About what?"

"We'll see. Come along, then."

Sherlock took off with long strides and John, after watching the boy's back quizzically for a moment, quickly followed after him.

When they were both inside the classroom, Sherlock shut the door and leaned against it while John took a seat in his chair. "So do you have something in particular you wish to speak with me about?" he asked, placing his briefcase on his desk.

"Eat," Sherlock ordered, striding gracefully to the desk directly opposite Dr. Watson's and sat on it.

"Excuse me?"

Sherlock sighed. "No need to feel pressure to starve yourself just because I won't be eating. You need food, so please, eat."

John frowned, noticing for the first time that Sherlock wasn't carrying any type of lunch bag. "And why won't you be eating?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. Everybody knew the Holmeses were rich, he was definitely able to afford a simple bagged lunch.

"Because, Dr. Watson, this body is merely a transport and I see no need to eat for pleasure. I can go days on end with nothing. In fact, eating clogs my brain just as it does my arteries."

"Fruit doesn't clog your arteries," John countered. "Besides, you can't go days without food, it's unhealthy. No wonder you're so thin. Here, take this." He grabbed his sandwich from his bag and handed one of the halves to Sherlock. When the boy simply stared at it with disgust, he threatened, "If you don't eat at least half of this half, I will fail you."

"I'm almost positive that's illegal," Sherlock grumbled, snatching the sandwich from the now laughing professor.

"Well, it got me my way, so I don't much care for the logistics, Mr. Holmes." John took a big bite of his sandwich, smirking when he saw Sherlock take a teeny bite. "So, again, is there anything particular you want to talk to me about?" he asked after swallowing.

Sherlock put down his sandwich, obviously pleased with the excuse to not eat more. "I wish to speak with you about class. There is an annoying amount of idiots in mine and if you could get them switched to another I would appreciate it."

John raised an eyebrow at the boy. "I'm sure you know that I can't do that."

He shrugged. "Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask."

John stared at him for a moment before realizing he was staring at his student and quickly turned his attention back to his sandwich.

"Did I get it right, by the way?"

The professor looked back up and tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

"When I deduced you before," Sherlock clarified. "Was I correct?"

"Oh, that." That amazing thing he had done at the end of class where he'd just blurted out the most important things in John's life. "Yeah, it was brilliant." Then he found himself smirking. "Except Harry is shirt for Harriet."

"_Sister,_" Sherlock hissed, clearly annoyed at being wrong. "Damn it, there's always _something._"

"Well, if it helps, you got everything else right," John told him with an impressed smile.

"Of course it doesn't!" Sherlock snapped and the older man automatically shrank a little, his smile vanishing. Not wanting to show the sudden change in mood, he went back to his sandwich. Of course, Sherlock noticed it easily and mentally cursed himself for being so rude. Then he found himself wondering why he cared. He was always rude, to everybody. He cared so little that he usually didn't even notice when he was doing it. Why was John Watson different?

"Class will be starting soon," John informed him as he cleared his stuff after a few minutes of silence.

Sherlock nodded and got ready to stand up before remembering the sandwich and deciding maybe eating something like that just once wouldn't be such a bad thing. He took a bite and found his happiness level rising at the smile this produced from his teacher.

Yes, Sherlock decided. It wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this took so long! Life gets difficult when you have three stories in progress and your computer decides to stop working. ^^' I haven't gone over this either, so sorry if it's not to your expectations, but I didn't want to make you wait anymore. :)**

* * *

Sherlock opened the door to his house-not home, as his brother tried to get him to call it-and plopped his bag down next to the door. He shuffled towards the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. As he took a bite, he found his thoughts wandering yet again to a certain blonde teacher and wondered if the older man would make him eat again tomorrow. Though the thought normally would make him scrunch his nose in disgust, he found himself warming up at the thought.

_He cares._

The words rang in his mind and he shook his head. No, no, he couldn't have such sentimental things going around his mind palace, that would be useless and weak. But keeping John himself in there couldn't be all that bad. He had already started putting the man's every detail-his face, his voice, the way he walked-into his memory, in a little box he could have easy access to that he knew he would never delete.

His mental hearts were interrupted by the sound of leather shoes coming closer and Sherlock straightened his back in preparation.

"Hello, brother," Mycroft greeted, going round the table to stand across from Sherlock. "And how are you this evening?"

"Oh, just get on with your rantings," Sherlock grumbled, taking a seat.

"Rantings? You mean my thoughts on you spending some quality time with another human being today?" The older Holmes laughed, twirling his umbrella slowly with his fingers. "Not at all, I'm pleased that you've made a friend. Who is this mysterious person who doesn't want to pound you into the ground after more than a moment with you?"

Sherlock stayed silent. He didn't have to answer, his brother already knew who his 'friend' was and Sherlock wasn't going to dignify him with a response.

Knowing his baby brother well enough to know his thought process, Mycroft laughed. "Of course. John H. Watson, PhD. Isn't he a tad old for you, Sherlock?"

"I don't believe age is really an issue, considering how far ahead of my so-called peers I am," Sherlock retorted. "Besides, what concern is it of yours? We did nothing but spend lunch together. I hear people do discuss things with their teachers now and again."

"Yes, but Sherlock Holmes does not discuss."

Sherlock stood up, tossing his barely-eaten apple onto the table. He was done with this conversation and turned from his nosy brother before walking up the stairs, taking them two at a time to the second level before heading into his room. After closing the door, he sat on his bed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. After typing in the password and getting to his browser, he found himself going to Facebook and typing a name in the search box. Frowning, Sherlock wondered why on Earth his teacher had to have such a common name. There had to be hundreds of John Watsons on the site. With a stroke of genius, he put an 'H' in between the first and last name and smiled. _Bingo._

The one he was looking for was only the second result and he clicked the name. As he scrolled through the page, he wondered why the teacher had almost no privacy settings on and found himself clicking Pictures. As he scrolled through, he stumbled upon a picture that made his eyes widen.

John was at the beach and therefore wearing nothing but swim trunks. They reached down to his knees, but the view of the older man's amazingly toned chest and that gorgeous smile was enough to make Sherlock's pants uncomfortable tight around his crotch. He was holding onto a blond woman and he decided it must have been Harry, not his ex-wife, judging by the blond hair and facial resemblance. He barely even noticed her, though, as his eyes stayed focused on the only person who had managed to hold Sherlock's attention and his hand slowly slid downwards.

He didn't even think he blinked as he stroked himself to his teacher's picture for however long it was until his body tensed and his eyes rolled back with his climax.

After washing his hands off and changing his boxers, he moved back to his computer and moved his mouse and clicked _Add friend._

* * *

John grumbled as his car made a sputtering noise. He could practically hear the moans (_"Oh, John, why did you abuse meeeeee…."_) coming from the vehicle as it hiccuped. He sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment before removing his key and getting out, He slammed the door and kicked the side in frustration. _At least I got home first,_ he thought with a sigh before heading inside.

He put his briefcase on this desk and walked across the small space to the bathroom. After finishing in there, he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop slowly, so as not to break it anymore than it already was after years of use. He logged on to his email and scanned though, deleting all the junk first. He then opened the first one from a student and rolled his eyes at the typical request for an extension. He replied to it with a lengthy and formal way of saying "No" and moved on to the next one.

His eyes caught a message from Facebook along with the name Sherlock Holmes and friend request and he opened it, clicking the link which led him to the request. He clicked the young boy's name and frowned at how tightly locked his page typically teenager. He hovered his mouse over the button _Respond to friend request_ and weighed the options for a moment. He couldn't accept it, he knew that, but did he have to actually press no? He didn't think so and moved his mouse to the Message button.

_Dear Mr. Holmes,_

_I'm sorry I cannot accept your request right now. I don't become friends with current students on here; too inappropriate. You understand, I'm sure. Perhaps after you graduate. :)_

_John Watson_

He went back to his email and was surprised when only a few minutes later he got another email saying he had a message. After getting directed there, his eyes scanned over the words.

_I do understand. Or perhaps you'll change your mind soon. Perhaps we could simply have more discussions_._ Perhaps more._

Before he could even try to think of a response, another message popped up.

_Perhaps we could exchange numbers._

John felt a blush creep up his neck and he adjusted his collar. Was Sherlock Holmes…flirting with him?

No, no, it couldn't be. John was a teacher and Sherlock was a student. He wouldn't flirt with an old man like him.

Still, he couldn't stop the small smile that formed and that little voice that said plenty of teachers gave their students their numbers, for professional reasons. Though he knew these reasons weren't professional, he couldn't stop his fingers from typing back his phone number.

* * *

**Review, please~!**


End file.
